


Taken

by WordsAndWishes



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Angst, Drama, POV Nesta Archeron, acomaf, mild swearing, there's nessian if you really squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 05:11:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13474371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordsAndWishes/pseuds/WordsAndWishes
Summary: Nesta Archeron was violated once, by someone she thought she loved. It was equally awful to watch immortal monsters break into her house and try to seize her and her sister.She will not go down without a fight.





	Taken

The first thump awoke Nesta.

She had been sleeping later these past nights, ever since the Illyrians had been posted at the manor. She rarely saw them, but that almost made their presence more unnerving.  
Perhaps she would’ve fallen back into another fitful sleep, mistaking the thump as nothing more than an animal outside.

But the noises didn’t stop.

_Thump._  
Thump.  
**Crash.**

What the _hell?_

The unmistakable sound of a sword being drawn, of blades crashing together as a pain-filled scream pierced the air – an Illyrian’s scream. Shit. 

What would have to be done to fae warrior to get him to scream like that?  
_Shit._

Nesta leapt out of bed, adrenaline pumping through her veins as panic began to cloud her vision.

_Not now. Stay focused, damn it. Deep breaths._

Her hand found the edge of her nightstand, palm digging into the wood hard enough to hurt.

Find Elain. Breathe. 

Forcing the panic to the back of her mind, Nesta felt for the top drawer of the nightstand, pulling it open in the darkness and drawing out a small, plain dagger. She had purchased it at the market last week out of pure paranoia, careful not to let Elain see it. She trusted Cassian – and Feyre - enough that she thought he wouldn’t leave disloyal guards at the residence of two human woman – but she didn’t trust the Fair Folk enough not to make the purchase.

She was glad she had bought it now, not to fight off a Night Court soldier, but to offer whatever flimsy defense she could against whatever hellish creatures were in her house.  
The crashes and thuds continued from the bottom level of the house – and then suddenly stopped as something heavy thumped on the mahogany floors.

For a moment the fear overtook her again, and she couldn’t think, couldn’t move. Her body and mind seemed to catch up all at once, shifting over to autopilot as Nesta raced for the floor, nearly tripping over the bedsheets her feet had been caught in as she threw the door open. Skidding down the hall in her bare feet, she almost wished for a fae’s unhuman reflexes for not the first time.

She reached her sister’s door – the one closest to the stairwell - just as several pairs of footsteps began their ascent up the stairs.  
Nesta drew a sharp breath in, fumbling with the doorknob in the darkness before twisting it open so fast her skin burned. 

A scream greeted her.

Elain stood in the center of the room, holding an upside-down wooden chair by its back like a weapon. She wore only a lacy, pale blue nightgown – no shoes or dressing robe. Her stance relaxed slightly as she realized it wasn’t a faery, eyes darting across Nesta as she took in her sister’s equally unkempt appearance, eyes catching on the dagger still clutched in Nesta’s fisted hand. 

Seconds had passed – the footsteps were nearing the top of the stairs now. Nesta slammed the door shut behind her and ran to Elain.

“Climb out the window, Elain.” She hissed. “Let me deal with this.”

Elain shook her head. “I’m not stupid, Nesta –“

Nesta pushed passed the pillar of determination her sister had become and went to unlatch the window, determined to get Elain out even if –

The footsteps reached the top of the stairs, right in front of the room. A low chuckle sounded, a voice like fingernails scraping the edge of a knife. Elain made a sound somewhere between a whimper and a scream. 

“I can hear every word you ladies are saying, you know. Running won’t do you any good – but I think you both know that already, don’t you?”

A woman’s voice interrupted. “Now, Bates. There’s no need to be so uncivilized.” Nesta could’ve sworn she heard the tinkling of bells as the door opened with a click, Elain’s breath catching in her throat as Nesta turned back, stepping in front of Elain.

The door swung wide open, and a lithe woman stepped through.

No – not woman. High Fae.

She was shorter than Nesta, cloaked in a blue robe, with strands of blonde hair framing her face. And – indeed, bracelets of bells adorned both wrists.  
Behind her stood two guards – also high fae. They looked as though they were made of stone, carved from the mountains themselves. The only distinguishing feature between the two of them seemed to be the eye color – one had silver, one black.

Nesta stepped forward, shoving her fear into a corner. “Get out of my house.”

The female laughed. “Or you’ll do what, Nesta dearest?”

_How did she know my name?_

She looked Nesta up and down, eyebrows raised as she noticed the dagger. “Your grip is all wrong.” The haughtiness in her voice made Nesta want to throw said dagger at her, wrong grip and all. 

“I was expecting more of a fight from you after everything I’d heard from Feyre.”

Feyre…had lied to them?

Memories of the past months flew through Nesta’s head as she combed through every encounter as quickly as she could. Her blood was boiling, her pulse was racing -  
_No._ It didn't add up. She thought the words just as Elain – sensing her tense – grabbed her arm.

“What business do you have with Feyre?” Elain’s voice was surprisingly fierce, even as she released Nesta and went back to twisting her pearl engagement ring.

Feyre would not have sold them out. Despite their clashes over the years, she refused to believe her youngest sister have betrayed them like this. They had parted on decent terms after the last meeting, and though she was many things, a traitor she was not.

The female’s voice remained serenely calm. “We’ve been sent too… _retrieve_ you on behalf of both Feyre Cauldron-Blessed and the King of Hybern –“

“Feyre would never conspire with a monster like him.” Nesta hissed, rage boiling up inside of her.

“Enough of this, Ianthe.” One of the stone-hewn guards spoke for the first time since entering the room. “We have a schedule to keep.”

Ianthe waved her hand flippantly. “Yes, very well. Seize them.”

Nesta froze. This had to be a nightmare, some kind of sick dream. The words from these monsters sounded almost cliché - like something the villain from an adventure novel would say right before the prince swept in and saved the weeping damsels.

But this wasn’t a book, and no prince was there to save her. 

And Nesta Archeron certainly was not a weeping damsel. 

So as the soldiers moved to capture the ladies of the household, Nesta lunged.

She threw the dagger – forcing all her energy into the throw – only to be grabbed so roughly from behind she felt her nightgown tear and shoulder pop. The black-eyed guard bound her hands before she could blink. The dagger landed uselessly in doorway.

Behind her, Elain screamed.

_No._

She tried to turn around to catch a glimpse of her, only to be shoved down, forehead on the floor.

She kicked.

She screamed.

A guard leaned forward to touch her face, and she bit his finger.

Still, it was not enough.

Finally, she caught a glimpse of Elain. The woman’s skin was already starting to bruise from rough hands, hiccupping sobs racking her body as the silver-eyed guard looked down at her, staring appreciatively at her body.

“Get. Away. From my sister.” Nesta hissed through clenched teeth, shoulder still burning. Not Elain. Never Elain. Damn her a thousand times before they ripped the innocence from her sister like a wing from a butterfly. It had happened once, and she had gladly let it, but it wouldn't happen again.

She wasn’t met with a response as the black-eyed guard swung her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing.

His grip remained like iron as Nesta went limp and then started thrashing all over again. 

Ianthe remained in the same spot, wearing a smirk like fine jewels.

“Elain!” She screamed, hot tears rolling down her face. Nesta felt with absolute certainty that they were going to die. 

Elain was bound on the floor, hiccupping sobs gasping out of her. She was now being grabbed the same way. Her guard’s hand, however, rested firmly on Elain’s hips for a moment too long. 

Bastards. She was going to tear them to pieces, she was going to –

Every one of Nesta’s violent thoughts disappeared as the world seemed to…fold, somehow. Darkness engulfed her, the only presence she was certain of was the guard holding her.

She screamed into the blackness again and again until, suddenly, the world returned – if only for a moment before the darkness took her into its fold once more.

Perhaps this was winnowing. The skill that – according to Feyre – only powerful High Fae could accomplish. And of course, mortal queens. They continued on, weaving in and out of darkness’s fold. Until they arrived at the gates of a dark castle, a fortress for a demon king. 

_Elain is going to die._


End file.
